


The Element of Surprise

by Sapphy, SapphyWatchesYouSleep (Sapphy)



Series: Becoming Sherlock Holmes [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-29
Updated: 2011-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphy/pseuds/Sapphy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphy/pseuds/SapphyWatchesYouSleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft's quiet morning is spoiled by his brother's insatiable curiosity</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Element of Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Another of my drabbles about Sherlock's childhood. I deliberately left Mycroft's lover genderless - I'm sure about his preferences, but I didn't want to put off any readers who don't agree with me. Holmescest is my otp, but even I have to admit that it doesn't really make sense.

Mycroft half woke when his lover slipped out his bed, around dawn, just long enough for a quick kiss and murmured goodbye, but the moment the door of his room closed he fell straight back into a dreamless sleep.

He awoke for real several hours later, feeling distinctly cheerful. His muscles, unused to physical exertion of any kind, ached a little, but it was not an unpleasant feeling, and bright spring sunshine streamed through the big sash window, lighting the room with a warm golden light. Mycroft lay for several minutes, somewhere between sleep and waking, sunning himself like a lizard. It wasn’t until his half open eye caught a flicker of movement that he awoke fully. Crouching by the end of his bed, watching him seriously through the bars of the bed frame as though he were imprisoned, was Sherlock.

Mycroft sat up so fast he sent most of the cushions, which he had arranged around himself to form a kind of nest, skidding to the floor. Sherlock, seeing his brother was awake, stood up. He made no effort to speak, simply went on staring at his brother, which was disconcerting, even for a Holmes. Sherlock’s eyes were a strange non-colour, not quite brown, not quite grey, not quite anything, which combined with the ferocious intensity of his gaze made being stared at by him unsettling at best.

“Sherlock,” he began, more curious than annoyed (though a fair bit annoyed it must be said), but Sherlock interrupted him.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why what?”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Sherlock huffed, coming to sit on the side of the bed. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

Mycroft wonders whether Sherlock is simply being annoying or if he genuinely can’t bring himself to say the word.

“I know you’re not interested Sherlock, but I would have thought even you would know why people do such things,” he drawled, wondering whether he should get up today, or stay in bed reading until supper time. He really was very comfy.

“Logically the purely physical side of such things can’t be better than what one can achieve alone, since you know your own body. And all the books I could find in the library talked about the appeal being the connection with another human being, which obviously doesn’t apply to you.”

Mycroft took a breath and told himself that Sherlock wasn’t actually trying to insult him.

“Why…” he began, but Sherlock once again interrupted him.

“Don’t be dense. It doesn’t apply to you because you’re not connecting with one of your own kind. There aren’t any more of your own kind except me and Mummy. You’re connecting with normals, which isn’t the same thing at all.” There was a moment’s silence and then Sherlock said brightly, “We could…”

This time it was Mycroft who did the interrupting. “No Sherlock. Absolutely no under any and all circumstances. If you want to try making a connection with one of your own kind why not ask Mummy.” That got him the reaction he was hoping for. Sherlock wrinkled his nose is disgust.

“Don’t be ridiculous Mycroft, Mummy’s female.”

Mycroft reminded himself, as he had too three or four times a day, that Sherlock wasn’t quite normal even by the standards of Holmes’, and his moral code was incomprehensible even to Mycroft.

Mycroft himself had few scruples. He regarded everyone who wasn’t a Holmes as fair game in his schemes, and had no objection to having people killed, if it were necessary, so long as he didn’t have to do it himself. Too much exertion. But he did have a few morals, ones which seemed to be almost inbuilt, and one of them was that you don’t kiss your brother. Now that he thought about it, it was largely illogical, but it held non-the-less.

“While it is true, baby brother, that you know your own body best, one’s own actions are necessarily unexciting. You know what to expect. What another human being brings to the table, so to speak, is an element of unpredictability.” There was more to it than that, even for a Holmes, but in some areas his genius brother was really very stupid.

“So the point of sex is too surprise your partner?” Sherlock’s eyes were lighting up, his brain already coming up with hair-raising schemes. Mycroft realised his mistake. Much as he disliked the normals, releasing his adolescent brother to test out his theories about sex on them was too cruel.

“You are not to try any of the things you’re planning,” Mycroft told him severely. “The aim of sex is to feel pleasure, and to make your partner feel pleasure. Surprise can help but you are not to attempt to improve anyone else’s sex life by booby trapping their beds. Or any of the other things you thought of.”

Sherlock looked disappointed.


End file.
